


Breathe/Heaven

by electricghoti



Series: Tenebrium/Take Flight [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Non-Explicit Sex, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Sex, Sexual Content, Spooning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-17 03:10:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3513038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electricghoti/pseuds/electricghoti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abelas and Lavellan let down their guard to connect in non-explicit sex. Set sometime after their relationship is solidified in chapter 6 of Shake It Off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathe/Heaven

He is slow to enter, spooning behind her, with a firm hand leveraged under her thigh. Her hand cupping the back of his neck pulls him close for repeated kisses, lingering longer with every step until he is all within her. His knee replaces the hand between, freeing his fingers to dance across bare skin, rising goosebumps a pleasing texture under his fingertips. He sweeps his fingers upward to be inserted between hers, lifting the hand from his neck to press her arm against her body in tight embrace. He leans to plant a gentle kiss between the knuckles of each curled finger, mouthing unspoken thoughts until his lips reach her chin. They rest there only briefly before he pulls his face from hers, directing his attention to hooded eyes and nibbling lips already missing their masculine counterparts.

“Ar tu sulahn.” He speaks the promise to her in a familiar and faded tongue, teasing in tone, yet full in both his intent and intense attention to her.  
“I will make you sing...” She mutters the translation to herself, lifting lids to meet his gaze, searching for the tease and blunt humor she expects from the euphemism. It does not appear.  
“As your heart sings to me.” The sentence is finished for her, earnest and honest without the usual deflection.

It is a willing piece past the armor he wears, as familiar as the ceremonial metal worn to physically protect his heart. Her eyes widen in response to the clearly unexpected answer, hand tightening in his, a visible expression of a heart squeeze.  
No words come from an open mouth expected to speak, torn between wry humor to distance and honesty to connect. It doesn’t matter. He knows her heart shows its true colors in tender moments when she is only Rhanae, and not hidden behind a title.

He relieves her from the pressure of reciprocation with a jerked movement of hips, marking the start of a smooth, deliberate rhythm and a breath catching in her throat in place of her spoken reply. The choice of shedding her own armor is left in her hands, a decision to be made later of her own will when she is ready. The now is for connecting their paths without forced words and trusting a physical language they both understand. Hers is the dialect he will master here with seeking hands and wandering lips.

He releases his hold on her hand, extracting his fingers to cup the outside of her breast framed by her arm. Though he would not linger yet. He chose instead to sweep his hand toward her throat, thumb brushing just beyond her nipple in the upward trail to her chin. A gentle push was all he needed to tilt her head backward, exposing her neck. A breathy exhalation tinged with disappointment is the notation he wants to mark down for later. Patience.  
His lips trace the lines on her neck where faded blood writing used to be, nipping teeth in the four corners where enlarged ends curled around the sides. Heavy swallows masked audible reactions except the last, a pleased exclamation slipping through the cracks of her restraint.

He speaks of desire and beautiful scars, turning her head away so he may keep his lips close to her ear, all the better to keep her attention on the praise he cannot help but share. That they are old elvish and nearly untranslatable in her limited understanding seems to matter less than his intent. He keeps his voice in a sensual tone that sounds like rubbing velvet, pairing appreciation for the language her body speaks to him so far and for what is sure to come.  
He settles to press his chest against her back, his mouth level to her ear. Navigating by touch, he trusts her to direct him should his studying be less than thorough. He tells her such in the common speech she understands before switching back to his more familiar tongue.  
His fingers on her skin are as ink on a page, directed by the quill his spoken word represents. They are sometimes feathered and soft and sometimes pinching, pressing on points with a flourish to draw the best of her body's words from her. He starts with no premeditated intent. It is the bubbling of words coming spontaneously, praising and reverent, that guides him in exploration. It is cooing words for the want she elicits in him, for fluttered lashes and breaths caught in the throat, for scars and stories trusted to him, for shared loss and learned joy. Teasing and touch are being interspersed with taste. In it all he speaks of his next intent, the next sentence he writes, with coarse phrases in contrast to the elegant weave of his lips against her ear.

He is wandering, unplanned, tracing history’s old lines and each stop off the path a new pleasing surprise for her. Only a few words she is able to catch, aiming to twist and shift in anticipation of what she infers to be the next page scribed on her body. Each word tugs the straps of her resolve, each touch cracks the shield she hides behind, crafted to hide the kinks in the chain she wears to protect herself. With each piece of her filling his hand she offered a little more, another piece of armor shed, another piece of willing heart being exposed to him. She bends to him, her outer resolve unraveling, becoming unmade within his sincere embrace. Her will is soon to be undone.

The spoken word is now being abandoned in favor of his mouth to skin, tasting with a tongue curling around marks left from nipping teeth on sensitive pearled points of skin. His leg between hers lifts to further expose herself to vulnerability, his hand dipping between in to move with brisk scrawls, no longer restraining himself to deliberate strokes. There is no more barrier between them, falling in favor of unspoken intimacy and bonding hearts. They are push and pull, give and take, until there is a moment when their worlds collide. That moment is a shared shiver, an arcing spark of blinding heat that is passing between and through them. A tightly wound high that is soon unfurling in the waning glow.

Their separation is a slow, reluctant thing done only out of necessity. He cups a hand around her shoulder, fingers rubbing soothing circles as he nuzzles against her neck. She reaches to brush her hand against his cheek, even as he feels a tenseness to her body that signals the rise of careful shields. Not all the way, but enough that he knows she still is in need of her own space. It is a language he used to speak before in harsher times. He understands.  
Heartfelt words of assurance are being murmured into her ear before he pulls himself away, choosing to roll to his other side so that his back faced hers. Connected, but distant enough for her to choose acceptance or rejection of his touch. 

He nearly fades from the waking world when the rustle of fabric behind him pulls him from his path to dreams. He keeps himself still, silence holding in his surprise as he felt a hand tentatively rest on his back, waiting for his reaction. She grows bolder in his silence and presses herself against him, wrapping her arm loosely around his waist, while the other curled behind him to grasp his shoulder. He feels gentle lips against his neck and hears the soft intake of breath before she raises her mouth to his ear, whispering things previously unspoken between them. He can’t help himself from closing his hand around hers, squeezing her fingers as his own heart clenched from her words.  
She holds him tight in her embrace, and he all he feels is warmth.


End file.
